post, interrupted
This month, I really tried to do away with this year's stock sequence of LH Surge, Ridiculous High Progesterone Level with Rack Update and Magic Eightballesque Musing ("so, what do YOU think is going on in mah ute?") because it was all inevitably followed by a collective Moan Of Disappointment when my period arrived.
and when I say "really tried" what I actually meant was "no longer gave a shit". But without all that repetitive crap, what was I reduced to? LAWN UPDATES, that's what. You can thank me later.
Anyway, this year, this blog has been like watching That Guy. The one who's got the ball and is running down the field dodging and weaving and OMG, the crowd is going WILD. Then he trips over his shoelace and drops the ball, the end.
Because if I wasn't writing about THAT, I'd be writing NOTHING.
For about a year now (that's a HINT, by the way)(one I did NOT buy because I am SO SMAHT), it's been like a blender is in my head and everything has been SO overwhelming. My doctor (Dr G) says that it's because a whole lot of everything HAS been SO overwhelming, so that's a GOOD thing because I'd hate to be living The Perfect Life and having THAT be too hard to deal with. Better then, that life HAS sucked, you know?
I've been seeing DrG regularly because of that Being Run Over By A Whole Lot Of Trollies thing from last year (three ruptured discs! Yippee!), so this one time I sat there and commenced with the crying, all I can't cope! Am not coping! I will TAKE THE CRAZY DRUGS! Because NOT COPING! Depressed, OBV!
But he said I wasn't depressed (me: THANK GOD. Except...no chemically drowning out of mah pain? *plans trip to The Bluff* ), I was someone who's life was out of control through no fault of her own (if you don't count the COUNTLESS sprints down the football field. I take full responsibility for continuing to run down the length of the field shouting "whoopee!" without first checking my shoes)(that whole thing where my life's plans were BLOWN out the window by The Trolley Thing though? NOT MY FAULT. woe, etc)( And then there's that little Other Thing, the thing where I lost a pregnancy)
Oh yeah. THAT.
so it took me about a year to realise that I'm GRIEVING.
(you: NO SHIT)
I think it took me a year, denial of said aside, because it took that long to realise this whole loss thing is, like, PERMANENT.
I've been so busy not losing my shit, I forgot I went though the saddest most awesomely difficult thing I've EVER experienced.
Annnd, I've been through it alone (*cue violins*)
When my due date rolled around this year - which really, could have been any time from February third until March the third, everything went black, but I didn't get it. For that whole time, I didn't know WHY the lights went off. I just figured life FELT like shit so I didn't hurl myself off a cliff (mostly - okay, ONLY, because of Daniel) because I figured that while it FELT so real, it had to be only my potato peelings and NOT relisty, it would go away eventually, bunnies and kittens etc.
it didn't.
Then June crept up and it smacked me SO HARD.
And I still didn't get it.
It was only when I was talking to a girlfriend about being pregnant last year (in the carpark at MacDonald's because MaCafe= best marketing plan EVAH, and the carpark because kids are assholes and will TEST you the ENTIRE time you're telling them "go out and PLAY" because you want to drink your coffee and enjoy some grown up company and they WON'T LET YOU, not until they're all sitting in someone else's car doing NOTHING except, you know, SIT), that I realised THAT five minutes was the MOST I'd EVER talked to anyone.
and then I realised it was june 14, 2009, ie The Beginning Of the Equal Happiest and Singular Saddest Event Of My Life.
So I did the sensible thing and called the grief counsellor.
The one I tried to emote to last year but who I ended up discussing everything else EXCEPT loss with instead.
By this time last year, I'd been newly and bunny in the headlights pregnant ie gobsmackedly and over-the-moon happy, and then I WASN'T pregnant, and at this exact time last year I was waiting for it to be over so I could start again, just like none of it ever happened.
Thing is, when you lose babies - and it doesn't matter if your loss occured five days after you got that double line, or YEARS later, it's still your child's lifetime gone in your lifetime, and YOU ARE NEVER THE SAME AGAIN. EVER.
If you DO lose a child later in pregnancy, or sometime after that child was born, it's a recognisable loss.
If you lose that child early on, it's all "it's for the best, move on, think of what you have, it would have been too hard with two, God's will, you can try again". You are told SO MUCH SHIT by people that mean well that it's HARD to even imagine your grief is real.
The pain of NEVER knowing your child is just as real as the pain of losing a child you've met, or of losing a baby you've felt kick, but somehow an "early pregnancy loss", or a "blighted ovum" lacks credibility.
My dreams - YOUR dreams - for our lost pregnancies are just as real as ANYONE'S for THEIR lost children.
I don't think you can compare the pain factor here. I don't think you can say THAT woman is MORE deserving of understanding - from others, but mostly, from HERSELF - because she felt a kick, changed a diaper, proudly watched a graduation ceremony, that that woman over there, the one who's grieving because she NEVER got to experience those things.
One of the hardest things, second only to That Fateful Day, was the understanding that this sadness NEVER goes, the wondering what could have been will NEVER go, this gaping wound in my heart will never be healed. I'll just get used to feeling this way. I'll get used to missing two little lives I never ever knew.
I feel like I'm letting Daniel down, that I WILLINGLY put myself in a position where I could be forever changed, so I feel like kind of a dumbass to continue with this delusional shit that might but probably won't end well.
and on that note.I've got to go. This is a disjointed entry that needs a fisnish but I'm late already and this is the most I've written in a long while about stuff I should have been writing about for a year and if I don't hit Publish now, I probably never will.
Momentitio. This entry WASN'T going to be about The Sad, it was meant to be about Not Being That Guy.
But fuck that.
My LH was 30 whatnots on July 14, and 34(!) the next day. Insemination occured on July 15 and 16. My (effective) day 21 progesterone was last wednesday and came in at a respectable 57 thingummydoovers, which felt SO MUCH better than the crazy inducing high notes I've been reachingn all year, ie no sore boobages, no INSANITY! and is still GREAT when thinking pregnancy (remember, a non pregnant cycle prog is around 20-30) .
My period is due in the next day or three, and I have THE most gigantic rack right now, and The Sore, OMG.
All this in a week.
BECAUSE I AM THAT GUY AND I STILL HAVEN'T CHECKED MAH SHOES.
Okay, now you can go.
and when I say "really tried" what I actually meant was "no longer gave a shit". But without all that repetitive crap, what was I reduced to? LAWN UPDATES, that's what. You can thank me later.
Anyway, this year, this blog has been like watching That Guy. The one who's got the ball and is running down the field dodging and weaving and OMG, the crowd is going WILD. Then he trips over his shoelace and drops the ball, the end.
Because if I wasn't writing about THAT, I'd be writing NOTHING.
For about a year now (that's a HINT, by the way)(one I did NOT buy because I am SO SMAHT), it's been like a blender is in my head and everything has been SO overwhelming. My doctor (Dr G) says that it's because a whole lot of everything HAS been SO overwhelming, so that's a GOOD thing because I'd hate to be living The Perfect Life and having THAT be too hard to deal with. Better then, that life HAS sucked, you know?
I've been seeing DrG regularly because of that Being Run Over By A Whole Lot Of Trollies thing from last year (three ruptured discs! Yippee!), so this one time I sat there and commenced with the crying, all I can't cope! Am not coping! I will TAKE THE CRAZY DRUGS! Because NOT COPING! Depressed, OBV!
But he said I wasn't depressed (me: THANK GOD. Except...no chemically drowning out of mah pain? *plans trip to The Bluff* ), I was someone who's life was out of control through no fault of her own (if you don't count the COUNTLESS sprints down the football field. I take full responsibility for continuing to run down the length of the field shouting "whoopee!" without first checking my shoes)(that whole thing where my life's plans were BLOWN out the window by The Trolley Thing though? NOT MY FAULT. woe, etc)( And then there's that little Other Thing, the thing where I lost a pregnancy)
Oh yeah. THAT.
so it took me about a year to realise that I'm GRIEVING.
(you: NO SHIT)
I think it took me a year, denial of said aside, because it took that long to realise this whole loss thing is, like, PERMANENT.
I've been so busy not losing my shit, I forgot I went though the saddest most awesomely difficult thing I've EVER experienced.
Annnd, I've been through it alone (*cue violins*)
When my due date rolled around this year - which really, could have been any time from February third until March the third, everything went black, but I didn't get it. For that whole time, I didn't know WHY the lights went off. I just figured life FELT like shit so I didn't hurl myself off a cliff (mostly - okay, ONLY, because of Daniel) because I figured that while it FELT so real, it had to be only my potato peelings and NOT relisty, it would go away eventually, bunnies and kittens etc.
it didn't.
Then June crept up and it smacked me SO HARD.
And I still didn't get it.
It was only when I was talking to a girlfriend about being pregnant last year (in the carpark at MacDonald's because MaCafe= best marketing plan EVAH, and the carpark because kids are assholes and will TEST you the ENTIRE time you're telling them "go out and PLAY" because you want to drink your coffee and enjoy some grown up company and they WON'T LET YOU, not until they're all sitting in someone else's car doing NOTHING except, you know, SIT), that I realised THAT five minutes was the MOST I'd EVER talked to anyone.
and then I realised it was june 14, 2009, ie The Beginning Of the Equal Happiest and Singular Saddest Event Of My Life.
So I did the sensible thing and called the grief counsellor.
The one I tried to emote to last year but who I ended up discussing everything else EXCEPT loss with instead.
By this time last year, I'd been newly and bunny in the headlights pregnant ie gobsmackedly and over-the-moon happy, and then I WASN'T pregnant, and at this exact time last year I was waiting for it to be over so I could start again, just like none of it ever happened.
Thing is, when you lose babies - and it doesn't matter if your loss occured five days after you got that double line, or YEARS later, it's still your child's lifetime gone in your lifetime, and YOU ARE NEVER THE SAME AGAIN. EVER.
If you DO lose a child later in pregnancy, or sometime after that child was born, it's a recognisable loss.
If you lose that child early on, it's all "it's for the best, move on, think of what you have, it would have been too hard with two, God's will, you can try again". You are told SO MUCH SHIT by people that mean well that it's HARD to even imagine your grief is real.
The pain of NEVER knowing your child is just as real as the pain of losing a child you've met, or of losing a baby you've felt kick, but somehow an "early pregnancy loss", or a "blighted ovum" lacks credibility.
My dreams - YOUR dreams - for our lost pregnancies are just as real as ANYONE'S for THEIR lost children.
I don't think you can compare the pain factor here. I don't think you can say THAT woman is MORE deserving of understanding - from others, but mostly, from HERSELF - because she felt a kick, changed a diaper, proudly watched a graduation ceremony, that that woman over there, the one who's grieving because she NEVER got to experience those things.
One of the hardest things, second only to That Fateful Day, was the understanding that this sadness NEVER goes, the wondering what could have been will NEVER go, this gaping wound in my heart will never be healed. I'll just get used to feeling this way. I'll get used to missing two little lives I never ever knew.
I feel like I'm letting Daniel down, that I WILLINGLY put myself in a position where I could be forever changed, so I feel like kind of a dumbass to continue with this delusional shit that might but probably won't end well.
and on that note.I've got to go. This is a disjointed entry that needs a fisnish but I'm late already and this is the most I've written in a long while about stuff I should have been writing about for a year and if I don't hit Publish now, I probably never will.
Momentitio. This entry WASN'T going to be about The Sad, it was meant to be about Not Being That Guy.
But fuck that.
My LH was 30 whatnots on July 14, and 34(!) the next day. Insemination occured on July 15 and 16. My (effective) day 21 progesterone was last wednesday and came in at a respectable 57 thingummydoovers, which felt SO MUCH better than the crazy inducing high notes I've been reachingn all year, ie no sore boobages, no INSANITY! and is still GREAT when thinking pregnancy (remember, a non pregnant cycle prog is around 20-30) .
My period is due in the next day or three, and I have THE most gigantic rack right now, and The Sore, OMG.
All this in a week.
BECAUSE I AM THAT GUY AND I STILL HAVEN'T CHECKED MAH SHOES.
Okay, now you can go.
posted by aibee at 09:05
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